


When your back turns, I ache for you

by minophisch



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bittersweet, Can be interpreted as one-sided, Crimson Flower, Longing, M/M, Mild Language, Pining, during time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24202903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minophisch/pseuds/minophisch
Summary: Reluctantly, Ashe complies and steps back. The tension from before has completely left Felix’s shoulders even as he continues with his preparations. There's such a sad look on his face – it breaks Ashe’s heart.“Stay.”
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius (Implied)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	When your back turns, I ache for you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MasterLillyclaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterLillyclaw/gifts).



They meet once, three years after the outbreak of the war.

Ashe fights hard in the Empire’s ranks as he and his battalion travel from region to region. It wasn’t easy, leaving the Kingdom behind. Even years later, when he lays in bed, he sometimes feels a twinge of guilt lodged in his ribs, but he knows he made the right choice. What the church did, what _Rhea_ did, was wrong. Ashe could not stand for the way she made examples of people, shredding lives like paper, just to keep herself and her system in power. He had lost his adoptive family to the her: funny, reliable Christophe; kind, wise Lonato; the countless people he had befriended in Lonato’s manor - whom he had been forced to drive arrows through - when they had come to their master’s aid. And of course, he would never forget how Rhea had taken his siblings ransom after that brutal mission. She kept them at the monastery under the guise of generosity, but made it sufficiently clear to him that if he spoke a single word out of line, their lives would be forfeit.

Another day, another hard-won battle. It takes an hour of riding, but Ashe and company finally make it to a sizable inn that can fit the entire party. He wants nothing more than to sink onto a sturdy wooden stool and eat his fill of bread and soup. Ashe places an order and props his head on his arm, slowly letting out an exhale. He wills his body to relax.

His men greet him at dinner, laughing and slapping him on the shoulder for a job well done. Ashe smiles weakly at them as they head off upstairs one by one. He doesn’t always feel all that optimistic and jolly – after all, it has only been a few years since he was just another orphan scrounging the streets for scraps. His transition into leadership had been far from easy. Nonetheless, he is happy that his men’s spirits are up and that they continue to place confidence in him as a leader.

At the edge of his consciousness, a bell chimes. Ashe barely takes note of it, sipping lazily from a cup of mint tea (his preference is angelica, but it has been scarce during the war), but a certain voice catches his attention.

“- pig’s feet, leave the gravy on the side.”

Ashe’s back straightens. He would know that voice anywhere. He whirls around in the direction of the bar near the center of the room. There are only three people seated there at this late hour, so his attention narrows on a particular figure dressed in teal and navy, shoulders hunched as he leans forward on the table. Two swords and a large, flat, cloth-covered object (Ashe would bet money that it is a shield) rest against the chair beneath his feet.

Unmistakable.

Ashe approaches him quietly. He doesn’t know if this is considered traitorous, but he prays that it won’t matter since they are in civilian territory. As quietly as he can speak while still being heard, Ashe whisper-shouts, “Felix?”

Startled, the man in the chair spins around, amber eyes flashing with hostility, then softening with recognition. Ashe sucks in a breath, shocked by the sudden movement and by how much Felix’s face has changed in just a few years. Any sign of baby fat has melted away with the war, and his features somehow appear sharper, as if hardened by fighting. Even his hair is shorter and choppier, framing his face and cheekbones. But that frown he wears even when pleasantly surprised is still very Felix.

“You’ve grown.” There’s a trace of a smirk in his voice, because of course there is.

“You’ve changed quite a bit yourself.”

His face remains impassive, but he pulls out the stool next to him. “I assume you’re not here to kill me,” he says, “Sit.”

Ashe does so gladly, and for a moment, it almost feels like monastery times again, when they would dine together with the Professor sitting across from them. It strikes Ashe that while this town is not particularly deep into Empire territory, they are very, very, far away from Fraldarius.

He takes a closer look at Felix. His clothes are worn and dirty, and the soles of his shoes are giving out. And most of all, Ashe realizes, he is alone.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” Ashe asks, eyes widening. “I know the situation in Faerghus can’t be good right now. Rodrigue –”

“The old man is fine. Fraldarius is secure, for now.” Felix doesn’t say much on the matter, deigning to drink from a mug of hot water instead. He coughs, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Listen. I… still trust you, somewhat. That said, Kingdom business is Kingdom business, and I don’t expect any information from you, either. We are on neutral ground, so we keep our conversations neutral as well. Deal?”

Ashe nods solemnly. “Deal.” He pauses, waiting for Felix to say more. He doesn’t. “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing so far out – not that I’m unhappy to see you! I’m chuffed, really.”

Felix shoots him a look. It seems insignificant at first glance, but Ashe can detect his weariness. “Personal business.”

Felix’s food arrives, steaming hot. He nods in acknowledgement as the plate is set down in front of him and immediately starts eating. Distantly, at the other corner of the bar, two men - possibly mercenaries - are conversing loudly. Ashe catches a fragment of the conversation, and from the way Felix’s ears perk up, so does he.

“… rumors, of men being trampled in scores, as if by a beast.”

“But the wounds indicate it was all done by a lance?”

“So I’ve heard. Honestly, this is the third story I’ve been told along these lines. Huge, hulking, screaming like a wraith. Sometimes, when I see men with lances, I want to piss my pants.”

Rumors carried by the wind and word of mouth get twisted and bloated by the fear and strife of war; this isn’t the first time Ashe has heard something like this. He thinks little of it, until he finds the seat next to him empty. He blinks, only to see Felix approaching the two men.

“Where did you hear this?”

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. Who are you, anyway?”

“If you didn’t want to be heard, you should speak softly. Now tell me, where did that battle take place?”

Offended by Felix’s manner and tone, they squabble; a few shoves are exchanged, but finally, one of the men explains. “I got this from a friend of mine two towns over. He fights for the local militia. You think he wouldn’t get into anything big or bloody. And yet, there was a massacre of the Imperial soldiers stationed there. He was the only survivor.” The man shakes his head, takes a large swig of frothing beer. “I hate this watered down stuff. Tastes like shit.”

“How long ago?” Felix presses.

“Persistent, aren’t you? Run into too many things head-on and you’ll get yourself killed, boy.”

“I won’t die.”

The man scoffs. “That’s some stupid confidence you have there.”

“Ah, to be young,” his companion agrees.

“Answer the question.” Ashe can tell Felix is getting testy now. He was always impatient, but he can sense his temper rising more rapidly than it usually would. Standing at a distance, Felix looks so tired, worn. And even as he threatens for information – small.

“Two days ago. There, satisfied?”

Felix grunts. “Thank you.” The two men seem surprised by his sudden show of courtesy as he returns to his seat. He settles back and digs into his food with new fervor. It is only now that Ashe also notices the dark circles under his eyes. He sees how Felix’s fingers, curled around the fork, are cut, blistered, and poorly bandaged.

Ashe’s mouth turns to a deep frown. “What was that about?”

Felix barely looks up from his food. “As I said, personal business.”

“What ‘personal business’? You said we weren’t talking about battle, and if it’s personal, it can’t be about the Kingdom. I’m your friend, right? You can tell me.” The more Ashe looks at him, the more details he finds that unsettle him to his core. Felix clearly hasn’t been taking care of himself – his swords seem more well-maintained than his body. 

Felix continues to eat, seemingly unperturbed. Ashe deflates. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” But inside, he’s so, so frustrated. He wants to help, and he wants to know: What is it that Felix is so desperately searching for?

With a sigh, Felix finally turns to face him. “Not here.”

“What?”

“You’re right, this is not about the war. Not really, but I don’t want to talk about it here.”

“Right…”

Felix flashes him a brief smile, and Ashe’s heart stutters, but the smile is gone as fast as it came. “Tell me. How is… life treating you. Is your family well?”

Ashe holds a mostly one-sided conversation. He talks about his siblings, who are in a boarding school in Enbarr, which he can finally afford due to his salary as an Imperial officer. He talks not about the details of battle, but of the trails he’s faced as a leader and of stupid cooking mishaps with improvised ration ingredients. Felix doesn’t say much, but he nods along, providing a quip here and there that makes Ashe bust out laughing. It’s been so long since he’s felt this… light? Happy? Maybe it’s wrong to feel this way when there are countless battles raging around them, here and all across the continent, but he makes the conscious decision to treasure this moment.

All too soon, however, Felix clears his plate. He shoves the chair back and drops a few coins on the table. He asks the host a few questions: _Where is the nearest armory? Can I obtain vulneraries here?_ Etcetera. Ashe can feel his heart sinking when Felix’s cape brushes his shoulder as he walks past.

Felix gestures to him. “Come.”

Scrambling and calling back over his shoulder, assuring the host that he would pay his share, he runs after the swordsman.

xxx

The moon shines overhead as Felix leads Ashe to the stables. The sky is clear and he can see every silver star in the sky. The stables – not what Ashe was expecting, as Felix has always preferred to keep up on foot, at least during their monastery days. But there he is, handling a sleek brown and white steed, feeding it hay and offering it water from a bucket. Felix pats the horse’s nose awkwardly. “His name is Nicholas. I just felt that you might want to know that, since you like animals.”

“Hi Nicholas,” Ashe says, quietly. “Hey, Felix. Is this about –”

“My ‘personal business,’ yes.” Felix watches the horse eat for a little longer, then stares at the floor, at the straw strewn at his feet. “I’m looking for the boar.”

That is _not_ what Ashe was expecting to hear. “What? But he’s –”

“Not so loud!” Felix clamps a gloved hand over his mouth. “I may not be fighting right now, but I do not want to be outed as someone with Kingdom loyalties!” He removes his hand, and Ashe sucks in a breath.

“Sorry.” Ashe’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “But Felix.” 

A beat. Ashe swallows. “He’s dead.”

“There was no head.” Felix lowers his voice to no more than a rasp. “No corpse, only an official statement from a fraudulent authority.” He pauses, and says somehow, even more quietly, but so earnestly, “He is _alive_. I know it. And I will be the one to find him.” There’s an undercurrent of… desperation there, Ashe realizes. It’s almost as if he’s trying to convince himself that what he’s saying is true. It is as if he would not know what to do if it’s not true.

The thought sends a pang of hurt through Ashe’s chest.

“This is…” _Insane_ , Ashe thinks. But he imagines: what if he had some proof that Lonato or Christophe were alive? If that were the case, there is no doubt that he wouldn’t drop everything to look for them. But Dimitri is dead, and this is an almost irrefutable fact. Besides, if he were alive, why hadn’t he come back to claim the throne? To guide his people?

“Think what you will.” Felix’s lips are a tight line, but there is no anger on his face, only defeated acceptance. Ashe notices that he’s strapping the reins onto his horse, and that he’s preparing to clear out the feed and the water.

Ashe freezes. “What are you doing? It’s so late.”

Felix doesn’t look up. “I need to find him. If he’s really got nothing – no men, no steed – he can’t have gotten far. It has only been two days.”

“Felix, you’re…” before he can think, his hands find Felix’s shoulders. They are face to face, and Ashe realizes that they’re the same height – finally, after all the times Felix had teased Ashe about being shorter than him at the academy. Moonlight filters through the gap in the slats of the canopy, casting glowing stripes across Felix’s skin. In that moment, he looks fragile. And tired.

So, so tired.

Felix finally makes eye contact with him, defiant. “I’m what?” He challenges.

Ashe loses the ability to speak for a moment. His instincts kick in. “Stay the night,” he pleads. “We can share a room. I don’t care if it looks like treason. I will even pay for a room, if that’s what it takes.”

Felix looks taken aback at Ashe’s words. “I haven’t the time to lose –”

“Felix, you’re tired.” Ashe insists. He almost wants to throttle the idiot. “If you don’t rest, you’ll. You’ll –”

_Destroy yourself._

Ashe pushes the words down. Felix won’t hear it, not when he’s this far in, even if Ashe doesn’t mean to suggest weakness. Instead, he says, “If you want to find Dimitri, you’ll need your strength.”

“I don’t need it to find a savage, starving, worn-down animal. I will be fine as is.”

He needs to convince him. Ashe feels something bordering on desperation: combined worry and dread. Wordlessly, Ashe reaches up, and a thumb rests on Felix’s cheek. Felix freezes under his touch, but doesn’t flinch. “When is the last time you’ve slept?”

Felix closes his eyes. He gently pulls Ashe’s hand away. “I had a few hours last night. Another few scattered throughout the days.”

“You know what I mean.”

Silence. And then: “Two days. But it’s what I – what I need to do.”

“Felix, please.” Ashe surges forward once more, and in a last-ditch attempt, he wraps his arms around the other man, his head resting on Felix’s shoulder. It’s… comforting. Felix’s embrace has always been comforting, solid, a relief. “You don’t have to carry this burden alone. Go back for more men, or even find some hired help around here. If you go on like this.” He swallows, hard. “If you’re too tired and slip in battle, you might die.”

He’s shocked when he feels a pinching behind the eyes. Ashe takes in an unsteady breath – and then it dawns on him. He’s afraid; he doesn’t want to lose Felix, someone who had become his close companion and trusted friend. Felix is someone he looks up to, cherishes… maybe even loves.

Ashe clings tighter – he’s already lost so much: to the church, to the war, to pure misfortune. He can’t lose Felix, too. He just can’t. 

Felix stands there, his breath even as Ashe’s shudders. Quietly, and gently, so gently, he says, “Ashe, it’s okay. Let go.”

Reluctantly, Ashe complies and steps back. The tension from before has completely left Felix’s shoulders even as he continues with his preparations. There's such a sad look on his face – it breaks Ashe’s heart.

“Stay.”

“I can’t stay. Nor can I get help – not many people think as I do, and they will only get in the way.” Felix opens the door to the stable, coaxing his steed out. “This is my burden to carry, and mine alone.”

Felix’s words are few, but Ashe understands everything that he feels but does not say: Anguish. Regret. A desperation to right things that he had made wrong.

“I don’t know everything, but.” Ashe considers his words, carefully, slowly. “You weren’t responsible. For what happened to Dimitri. If what you said at school is true, then this all started years before at Duscur. You don’t have to do this by yourself.” _Please don’t punish yourself like this._

For the first time this evening, there is a true smile on Felix’s face, and despite everything, Ashe feels his heart stop. “Thank you.” He grunts as he swings his leg over his saddle. “If you are so keen on helping me, promise me this: if you hear anything about Di- , the boar’s whereabouts, let me know. Send a message.” 

Ashe blinks up at him. He smiles back weakly, but in his stomach, what he feels can be distinctly identified as bleak despair, “I – alright Felix. I promise.” 

“Good.” There’s a pause as Felix tightens the reins. “Don’t die.” 

Before Ashe can get another word in edgewise, he’s gone. Ashe watches the dust settle as Felix disappears into the night. He imagines him riding out on the main road, weaving between the buildings that change from larger buildings to small huts and houses, and finally disappearing from sight as he cuts through the plains surrounding the town – undefined, uncertain, stretching every which way until it feels like the unknown is swallowing you whole. 

He feels sick to his stomach, so clasping his hands together, he hopes, and he hopes, and he hopes. He no longer prays, because he can no longer believe in the Goddess, but at that moment, he feels that he would give anything to ensure that someday, he and Felix will meet again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Gift and collab for Masterlillyclaw, who is a great friend and co-owner of my Ashelix brainworms.  
> She said something about CF!Ashe and AM!Felix one night and I suddenly felt compelled to write this.
> 
> Parts of Ashe's history are inspired by another Ashelix work, linked [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22875490).
> 
> You may interpret Ashe's affections as one-sided (and Felix's feelings for Dimitri as one-sided), but when I was writing this, I was thinking that Ashelix could be mutual, but Felix is blinded by grief and anger at himself.


End file.
